


In The Darkest Of Times

by peter_parkr



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abused Harry, Albus Dumbledore - Freeform, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort, Depressed Harry, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Godfather Sirius Black, Godfather/godson bonding, Harry has nightmares, Harry runs away, Hurt/Comfort, Marauders, Nightmares, Post Triwizard Tournament, Sad Harry, Sirius comforts Harry, abused sirius, cedric diggory - Freeform, harry breaks down, remus lupin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-11-30 10:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11461995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peter_parkr/pseuds/peter_parkr
Summary: Harry has had enough of the Dursleys' abuse and runs away to find Sirius at Grimmauld Place, where he spends the rest of the summer living with Sirius' guidance and comfort. Godfather and godson bonding story, focusing on the friendship and mentorship between Sirius and Harry as they grow closer. Set in the summer after 4th year, this story deals with the aftermath of the Triwizard Tournament and Cedric's death. Warning: some abuse mentioned, some swearing. Thanks for reading my story and please leave a review!





	1. Beauty Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Thanks for reading my first fic! I had an idea and decided to try it out... we'll see how it goes. 
> 
> The main focus of this story will be the relationship between Harry and Sirius as they find comfort in each other through tough times. 
> 
> Let me know your opinions- good or bad- so I know how I'm doing :) This will probably only be a few chapters long, depending on the response. Anyways, hope you enjoy and please leave a review or any suggestions for the story!
> 
> *Warning: This chapter contains some swearing and a short scene of physical abuse. Please don't read if you're not comfortable!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

_A flash of green light - bright and deadly._

_The dull thump of Cedric's limp body hitting the ground._

_His friend's lifeless eyes, wide and blank, staring up at him._

_His own pained cry: "Cedric! NO!"_

_A gleeful voice screams - "CRUCIO!"_

_Pain, pain, pain. Everything hurts. Make it stop._

_His own tortured screams._

_A face sneers down at his crumpled body with two glinting, snakelike eyes. It smiles like a knife._

_One last curse: "Avada-!"_

Harry Potter bolted upright on his shabby mattress at Number 4 Privet Drive, sweating and shaking, his throat raw. Before his eyes could even open, Harry's wand was drawn, a spell on his lips, ready to defend himself. Harry looked around frantically for a few seconds before finally realizing where he was. He let out a tired sigh of relief.

 _'Great'_  Harry thought miserably as he fumbled around on the nightstand for his glasses, shoving them crookedly on his face. ' _Another bloody nightmare. Will I ever get a decent night's sleep?_ '. Harry put his wand back in his waistband, swung his legs over the side of the bed and onto the floor. His body still tremored with the aftershocks of the Cruciatus curse; sometimes his dreams were so vivid it was hard to tell them from reality.

This past month had been one of the toughest of Harry's life. Haunted by the fatal events of the Triwizard Tournament in June, his life had taken a drastic turn for the worse. His fitful sleep was riddled with horrific nightmares. Harry was no stranger to feelings of guilt, but the weight of Cedric's death was crushing him. The loss of a close friend left Harry feeling empty. He had lost his already meagre appetite; he ate only enough to keep himself alive, causing his cast-off clothes to hang off him even more than usual. Harry felt weak and tired- his face was thin and gaunt, his eyes dull and haunted by experiencing things no 15 year old ever should.

On top of all this, his uncle's behaviour had taken a violent turn, even more so than usual. If Harry put one toe out of line he was guaranteed to have a few nasty bruises the next day. It wasn't anything he couldn't handle- he'd certainly endured worse pain. He was more worried about the bruises being visible when he went back to Hogwarts. Harry didn't like to be noticed or worried about, and he knew his friends, especially Mrs. Weasley, would be relentlessly concerned about his health.

Worst of all, Dumbledore had forbidden any owls to or from Ron, Hermione, Sirius and anyone else. All forms of communication were cut off for safety, leaving Harry feeling more alone than ever before. Loneliness has a way of defeating even the bravest of souls. Each day Harry could feel himself sinking further into depression and desperation, that dull hopelessness that plagues the mind and exhausts the body. But what could he do? Trapped at Privet Drive, Harry knew he couldn't live like this for much longer.

Harry really missed talking to his friends, but they weren't quite what he needed at the moment. Though he would never admit it, what Harry needed was an adult to help him; to take care of him and talk him through his issues, but not coddle him like Mrs. Weasley would. He needed someone like Sirius.

The last time Harry had any contact with Sirius was the night of Cedric's death and Voldemort's return, in the infirmary. Unable to catch Harry in private to say goodbye, Sirius had bid him a hasty farewell with a hug and pat on the cheek. But he had also discreetly slipped a scribbled note into Harry's hand. Later that night, when everyone was asleep, Harry had opened the note. It read:

_Harry-_

_I'm sorry I have to leave, but it's necessary - for reasons you can't yet know._

_Dumbledore didn't want me to tell you this, but I am anyways, just in case you need me. On the back of this note I have written an address - this is where I'll be staying. If you need me, send an owl there and I should get it._

_I love you, kid. I'll see you soon._

_-Sirius_

_P.S: you must burn this letter after memorizing the address. Don't leave it lying around, and don't tell anyone else about it!_

Harry had turned the note over, where it read:

_Number 12 Grimmauld Place, London, England._

It was comforting to know where Sirius was, but slightly useless seeing as he didn't even have Hedwig with him at Privet Drive - she was staying at Ron's place for the summer. Sighing heavily, Harry rose from his bed - there was no way he was getting back to sleep tonight.

Suddenly Harry's bedroom door slammed open, interrupting his musings and revealing his humongous, pyjama-clad and extremely enraged uncle.  _Shit_.

Before Harry had time to dodge him, Vernon stomped towards Harry, shoving him backwards onto the hard floor. His uncle picked him up by the scruff his t-shirt and slammed him against the wall.

"What in Bloody Hell is your problem, boy! What do you think you're doing, screaming like a bloody maniac, waking my family up at two o'clock in the bloody morning!"

Harry groaned, recovering from his moment of shock- he hadn't even realized he had been screaming during his nightmare. He braced himself, ready for another blow- by now he knew that fighting back was useless. Uncle Vernon delivered a sharp punch to his face -  _That's gonna be a black eye_  Harry thought as his head snapped back against the wall.

However, as the next fist wound up, something new happened - Harry decided that he had had enough of this. That he wasn't going to take it lying down anymore. Pushing his fear aside and ignoring ever instinct he had, Harry used all his force to shove his uncle away from him. Vernon dropped Harry to the floor in shock.

"I'm sorry for disturbing your  _beauty_  sleep,  _Uncle_  Vernon." Harry sneered as he rose to stand weakly. "I know how desperately you need it."  _Where the hell was this coming from?_

"WHAT'D YOU JUST SAY TO ME, YOU LITTLE BRAT?" his Uncle roared. Another fist collided with Harry's jaw, sending him crashing backwards. His head hit the wall with a sickening crack and he fell forwards onto his hands and knees, dazed. A sharp kick in the ribs followed by another crack brought him back to reality. But Harry was done. He couldn't continue with this life. Filled with purpose, he forced himself to stand and faced his Uncle, speaking to him in a deadly tone.

"All my life you've treated me like dirt. I used to think it was my fault; that I wasn't good enough for some reason. But now I know differently. You're a sick, twisted, cowardly bastard, and I'm tired of your shit."

"WHY YOU- YOU LITTLE- GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Vernon spat, pointing to the door.

"I was just on my way out." Harry stated coolly. The rush of adrenaline from finally standing up to his uncle caused him to momentarily forget his pain. Harry grabbed his pillowcase from underneath the floorboard and stuffed it into the trunk that he hadn't ever bothered to unpack. He stormed out of the room, past Vernon who was watching him with beady eyes full of rage. He stomped down the stairs, his uncle right behind him. When he got to the bottom, Harry saw his aunt and cousin waiting near the door. His aunt glared at him cooly, while Dudley sneered his pig face at Harry. With one hand on the door knob, the fifteen year old turned around to face his sorry excuse for a family.

He had so much he wanted to say to them, but no words could truly express his contempt and disgust. He looked at each of them right in the eyes, one by one, finally resting his level glare on his uncle. He settled on two quiet, simple words:

"Fuck you."

Then he turned on his heel, flung the door open and stomped out of the house, leaving Number 4 Privet Drive behind for good.


	2. The Boy Who Slept in a Dumpster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Hi again! This is a shorter chapter, but I plan on putting another one up later today. Enjoy!

The further away Harry got from Privet Drive, the more he began to realize what a stupid decision he had made. Not only was it 2:00AM, pitch black and pouring rain, but he had no plan for where to go from here. He had no owl, no money, not even a coat to keep him dry. Harry's broom, he realized grimly, was locked in the cupboard under the stairs.

Voldemort had just returned and was out to kill him (Harry had forgotten this minor detail in his rage). He decided he should definitely try to stay out of public places, for his own safety and the safety of innocent muggles. This ruled out sneaking onto any sort of bus or train. He couldn't use magic or he would be traced and expelled - so no Knight Bus. All he had was his invisibility cloak and his own two feet, which were cold and completely soaked.  _Shit_.

Dragging his trunk along, Harry's injuries from his uncle began to make themselves apparent- he was pretty sure he had a concussion and a cracked rib or two, along with a sprained ankle - not to mention a black eye and countless other bumps and bruises. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, Harry was feeling the pain more and more. And it hurt - a lot. But, since he couldn't use magic with the trace, there wasn't really anything for Harry to do other than deal with it. He limped along and began thinking of a plan.

One option would be to find his way to the Burrow and hope the Weasleys won't mind keeping him until school started. But Harry had a feeling if he showed up on Molly Weasley's doorstep like this he was bound to be fussed over and confined to bed rest. Also, he didn't know the exact location of the Burrow, and he didn't exactly want Ron, Ginny and the twins to see hi m in this state.

Since living on the streets wasn't an option in these dangerous times, Harry could only see one other choice: to find his way to Grimmauld Place and hope Sirius wouldn't mind letting him bunk for a bit. At least he had an address for Grimmauld Place, and he was pretty sure Sirius wouldn't coddle him, or ask too many question that he wasn't ready to answer.

But how would he get from Surrey to London? Harry had a vague idea of the direction he should be heading, but not much else to go on. Harry decided that, for now, he should find shelter from the rain and rest his ankle until morning, when he could quickly go into town and ask for a map, or some directions at least."

With a clear plan in mind, Harry limped off in search of somewhere dry. After a few minutes, he found an alley behind a supermarket right on the edge of town. He settled down against a dirty wall sheltered by an awning, gasping in pain as his ribs seared. He took his invisibility cloak from his trunk, draping it over himself. As Harry shifted to find a spot that didn't aggravate his bruised body too much, he became quite aware that he hadn't slept for more than a couple hours in the last five days or so. His last conscious thought before drifting off into a restless, painful sleep was: "Wouldn't they love to see 'The Boy Who Lived' now?

* * *

When Harry woke a few hours later, the first thing he registered was pain. His head, shoulder, ankle, back... everywhere. Being careful to stay under his invisibility cloak, Harry gingerly lifted himself to his feet, using the dumpster beside him for support. He was dizzy and having a hard time standing straight. But Harry had no time to linger in self pity - he had to find his way to London, as fast as possible.

The rain had slowed to a light drizzle overnight, and Harry had dried off a bit under the awning. He slipped out from under his cloak, shoved it into his trunk and dragged himself onto the street, making sure to keep his head down to avoid being recognized. Luckily it was still very early so almost everyone was still in bed, save a few early-morning commuters and cyclists. Harry noticed that a supermarket was already open and slipped in the front door.

He limped towards the counter, where a stout middle-aged woman was yawning while organizing some receipts. She looked up once he reached the counter and stepped back, gasping loudly.

 _Shit_  Harry thought, berating himself for his stupidity. He hadn't even thought about what he would look like to other people; he was wet, bruised and probably smelled like garbage.

"Oh my goodness! Dear, are you alright?" the woman asked, looking extremely worried. "What happened to you?"

"It's quite a long story... but I'm alright, really..." Harry replied awkwardly, looking away.

The woman squinted at him skeptically. Harry continued.

"Listen, I was wondering if I could get some directions to London, or maybe a map, or something... d'you think you could help me out? Please?" Harry was trying to behave as normally and politely as possible but his pain was building, making it hard for him to breathe regularly.

He looked back at the woman, taking in her face for the first time. Her eyes shone with kindness and compassion, but also a fierce protectiveness- Harry was immediately reminded of Mrs. Weasley.

"Of course, dear. I have a map right here; you can keep it, if you like." She reached under the counter and pulled out the folded map, handing it to Harry.

"Thank you." he gasped out, now leaning on the counter for support. The kind woman raised her eyebrows.

"You don't look like you're much up to travelling, love. My shift finishes at noon- if you could wait, I'd be happy to give you a ride into London. I'm heading up there anyways, to visit my daughter."

Harry desperately wished that he could say yes- it would save him from what he was sure would be a long and painful journey. But what if someone recognized him and made him return to the Dursley's? Or, worse, what if a death-eater discovered him? Harry knew for certain that he was a wanted man among Voldemort's clan. He wasn't about to endanger an innocent muggle- he'd have to refuse her help.

"Thank you for the offer, really, you're very kind. But I think this is something I have to do on my own." Harry said regretfully.

"Alright, dear... if you insist. But at least let me give you something for the pain- if that's alright." She grabbed a new bottle of painkillers from the shelf by her counter, opened it and shook out a few pills. She handed them to Harry with a bottle of water. "And don't worry about the price- I'll cover it".

"Thank you so much." Harry said sincerely, taken aback by her kindness. He took the pills from her and swallowed them down. He knew they wouldn't work to their full potential since he was a wizard, but hopefully they would help a bit - and to be honest, he needed all the help he could get.

"Well, I'd better get going." Harry said to the woman regretfully. "Again, thank you so much- you don't know how much you've helped me."

"No worries at all, dear. I only wish you'd let me help you more. Good luck to you- I hope you find your way."

"Me too." Harry replied honestly. He limped back towards the door, where he turned around and gave a crooked smile that may have turned out as more of a grimace. "Thanks again" he said, waving goodbye to the friendly woman, who smiled sadly and waved back with a look of pity on her face. Harry exited the store, trudging back onto the wet street.

Slipping back into the alley, Harry put on his cloak and opened his newly obtained map. He marked out his route, noticing that it was a long one - about an 8 hour walk lay ahead of him. He was definitely not looking forward to this journey.

"Better to start sooner rather than later, I suppose." Harry muttered to himself gloomily as he began to walk, holding his map tightly and dragging his trunk behind him. If there's one thing living in the Dursley's cupboard for 11 years taught him, it's that he can endure almost any discomfort with a little bit of stubborn perseverance.


	3. Mind if I stay a while?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Back again! Sirius is in this chapter (finally)! Let me know what you think by leaving a review!

After 5 or 6 hours of walking, Harry found himself tiring on a deserted country road in the middle of nowhere. It had started to pour rain again; the wind was blowing in strong gusts that nearly knocked his fragile frame over. Harry was hungry and exhausted, but he marched on, putting one aching foot in front of the other. He needed to get to Sirius- only then would it be safe for him to rest. The meds had kicked in after a bit- they didn't help much, but they took the edge off the pain, making it bearable.

In a strange way, Harry was feeling good about this journey. he was finally out of the Dursley house and away from his Uncle's temper. Having somewhere to go, a mission to complete, made Harry feel more motivated to live that he had in months. The pain was a necessary distraction from his emotional distress - he was able to focus all his energy into continuing to walk, rather than thinking about his guilt and sadness.

Lost in his own world, which seemed to be a common occurrence lately, Harry failed to notice a large pot-hole on the side of the road, directly in his path, until it was too late. His foot snagged the edge of the gravel hole and he crashed forwards, smacking his face onto the pavement and badly skinning his hands and knees. Harry lay in the ground in a crumpled, graceless heap.

Everything was starting to spin out of control- Harry's vision was blurred and couldn't think straight. The world was spinning around him even though he was standing still. He looked down at his scraped and bloody hands- since when did he have eight of them? Slowly, Harry felt unconsciousness creeping in on him.

But he wouldn't let it take him over- he couldn't. If Harry passed out now, on the side of the road, who knows what would happen to him? Who would find him; what they would do to him? He was certain he would never make it to Grimmauld place if he passed now. It was this thought that allowed Harry to, with great difficulty, drag himself up off the ground and continue his journey. He trudged on, not really aware of much except the sparks of pain throughout his body. All the while a quiet mantra repeated itself on Harry's lips, over and over again:

Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Number 12 Grimmauld place.

After Harry's fall, everything was a huge blur. Harry was hardly aware of the passing time; it could have been 5 hours or 10 minutes later that he suddenly snapped back into consciousness. Harry nearly collapsed in shock as everything he had been feeling subconsciously rushed through him all at once; the pain, the exhaustion, the hunger. It was quite obvious that the meds had worn off since the last time he was physically aware; the pain was back, a million times worse than before. Harry almost collapsed to the ground, but he was determined. He snapped himself out of it and kept on repeating his mantra: Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Number 12, Grimmauld place.

Harry looked up to check out his surroundings, and almost fell over in shock at what he saw. He was standing in front of two narrow, apparently normal houses- but that wasn't all. The houses were moving; slowly but surely shifting away from each other, right before his eyes. Between them, another house was appearing - this one was massive, old and dark, and creaked in the wind. 'I've finally lost it.' Harry thought to himself. 'I've gone mad. Completely bonkers.'

Quite suddenly, the houses stopped moving. Curious, and not thinking quite straight about the danger in his actions, Harry staggered towards the door of the middle house and up the steps. It was a few minutes before he got to the door at the top of the steps, leaning heavily on the banister and doubled over in pain. Harry raised his eyes and looked at the house number. He nearly yelped with joy when he read the four words carved into the intricate plaque on the door:

Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

He had made it.

Harry practically flung himself forwards onto the solid door. Leaning on the door for support, he reached for the knocker and pulled it . One knock. Wait. No answer. Two knocks. Wait. No answer. Harry reached up with the last of his strength to knock once more...

Right before he released the knocker, the door urgently swung open into the old house. Caught off-balance, Harry stumbled forward over the threshold. He would have crumpled in a heap on the floor if a pair of arms hadn't caught him in his fall. Strong, gentle, reliable arms Harry thought. Harry used the person's shoulders to lift himself up, leaning heavily on their body. That's when Harry raised his big green eyes and looked at the person's face for the first time. Joy bubbled in his chest- he had never been so happy to see anyone in his life. It was the face of Sirius, his Godfather, his safety. Harry vaguely registered that Sirius looked shocked and scared - understandably.

"Harry?" Sirius breathed out, sounding confused but most of all concerned.

Harry gave his Godfather a delirious grin. He replied, his voice cracking at the end of his words:

"Number 12 Grimmauld Place, right? Mind if I stay a while?"

Harry let out a choked sound- a mixture between a hysterical laugh and a desperate sob- and fell forward into the strong embrace of his Godfather. He wrapped his thin arms around Sirius' waist and rested his head in the crook of his neck, where he began to cry. Sobs wracked his weak frame, causing him to cry out from the pain in his ribs.

Harry couldn't help it- all of the pain, fear and exhaustion he had experienced- not only on this journey, but during the entire summer- came crashing down on him in cruel waves until he couldn't take it anymore. Harry felt his Sirius' strong arms holding him, one large hand pressing his head into a firm body while the other rested on his back, supporting him as he finally broke down.

Harry didn't know how long they stayed like that. He sobbed and sobbed and kept on sobbing, even when he had no tears left.

Eventually Harry had exhausted himself and felt sleep trying to take over- he didn't resist. He felt safe in Sirius' comforting arms, and nothing in the world seemed better than that. He thought one last thing before drifting into blissful unconsciousness:

'Number 12, Grimmauld Place. I made it.'


	4. Even the bravest of people

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N for this chapter: The order isn't staying at Grimmauld Place in this story, it's just Sirius and now Harry. Also, this chapter is from Sirius' point of view.
> 
> Enjoy and please leave a review!

(Sirius' POV)

To be completely honest, Sirius black didn't know what the hell was going on.

One minute he was having a panic attack over an owl he had just received from Dumbledore stating that Harry went missing from the Dursley's and a dementor was found in Little Whinging - all on the same day. Sirius was terrified; he feared the worst for Harry. Having no contact with his godson all summer had been killing Sirius. He worried about Harry every day - the kid had been through a lot this year, especially with the loss of a close friend, and Sirius didn't know how Harry was handling it. Harry was definitely a strong, tough person - but even the bravest of people can fall in the face of tragedy and loneliness.

Sirius was kept at bay by the knowledge that any form of contact with Harry could put him and the entire Order in danger of being found by Voldemort and his cronies. But in that moment, as he read the urgent letter, Sirius was sorely regretting following Dumbledore's orders; he should be there, looking after James' kid. If anything happened to Harry, he would never be able to live with himself - neither would Remus, who had been off on an underground mission since the night of the fateful Triwizard Tournament. Sirius was about to floo to Hogwarts to speak with Dumbledore and find out what the hell was going on. Next thing he knew, Sirius was opening his front door to find his bruised and battered Godson half-dead on his doorstep.

To say that Sirius was surprised when Harry showed up would be an understatement. Sirius hadn't really known what to do or say, so he just held his godson as he sobbed, relieved that Harry was alive with his soul intact but fearful to find out the what Harry had been through to reach this state. Harry's cries were so anguished that it physically hurt to listen to them- no fifteen-year-old should be capable of making these sounds. Frankly, Sirius was scared- he had no idea what the hell had happened to the poor boy, or how Harry could have gotten himself beaten up this badly. Eventually Harry either fell asleep or passed out in his arms- probably the latter, judging by his condition. After he felt Harry finally go limp, Sirius gently picked up the boy, who was far too light for his age, and brought him up to his room and laid him on his bed, hoping to treat some of his injuries. This was where he found himself now.

Sirius was actually a pretty decent healer- he had taken classes all the way through to his seventh year at Hogwarts, and being a frequent patient of Madame Pomfrey for various reasons had taught him a thing or two along the way. He knew the basics by heart - cuts, scrapes, bruises and broken bones. Now, with his badly injured godson laying in front of him, it was time to put his skills to the test.

Sirius decided to start by cleaning Harry up so he could actually see his injuries, many of which were masked under layers of dirt and dried blood. Sirius summoned a bowl of water and a clean cloth and began to carefully wipe down Harry's face, neck and arms, trying not to aggravate his cuts too much. The more he cleaned Harry up, the more evident his cuts and bruises became. He had a black eye and bruised jaw, amongst many other scrapes and bumps. He also looked like he had taken quite a nasty fall- his hands were torn up and the front of his head was scraped badly. It was apparent that Harry had been in a fight with someone; his body was marked with bruises that only a human hand could make. This worried Sirius further - was this simply a case of neighbourhood scuffles, or was something deeper going on?

Sirius carefully peeled off Harry's wet shirt and gasped loudly at what he saw underneath. He had known that Harry was skinny, but this was beyond that. The boy was fifteen- James certainly hadn't been this skinny at his age! But then again, Harry wasn't James. His ribs were sticking out much too far to be healthy and he had no meat on his bones- Sirius would have to fix that. There was also a shocking large and swollen area on his rib cage, stark in contrast to his pale skin- Sirius suspected a broken rib or two.

No more than twenty minutes later, Harry was dressed in a clean pair of pyjamas and was mostly healed. Sirius had treated and bandaged his broken bones to the best of his ability, but suspected they would still hurt for a few days. He had healed most of his cuts and bruises with salve and a few spells. Judging by the head wound, Sirius was pretty sure that Harry had a concussion, but he would have to wait until he was awake to check for sure. Harry looked considerably better than he had before, but still appeared ill. He was far too pale and thin, and had large purple bags under his eyes. Sirius wondered when the last time Harry had slept properly was - and what was keeping him awake.

Looking down at his godson, Sirius felt guilt and shame - Harry was his charge, his responsibility, and he had let him down. He only hoped he could comfort the kid and protect him in the future.

Sirius pulled himself from his thoughts - he should let Dumbledore know that he had Harry and he was safe. He kneeled in front of the fire and fired up the floo to speak with Dumbledore. The old man answered, looking tired and anxious, and immediately started to inform Sirius of the situation.

"Sirius, I'm glad you called - I've got a team out looking for Harry, I'm pulling everyone I can together, we think we've traced him to being in a supermarket in Little Whinging early this morning -"

"Woah, woah, Albus - slow down. I have good news - I've got Harry. He's alive and safe - he'll be fine. Don't worry." Sirius spoke calmly to try to ease Dumbledore's worries.

"Oh, thank Merlin..." Albus' face immediately relaxed into relief

"Yeah, he showed up at Grimmauld place a few hours ago... I don't know what happened yet, but he was in a pretty rough state. I've mostly healed him, and he's sleeping now". Albus looked concerned.

"Sirius, I think I should send over Madame Pomfrey, just to stay with Harry for a while to make sure -"

"No, Albus. I'm a competent healer - there's nothing here I can't handle. I think Harry needs someone to trust now, someone he knows. I'll call for help if anything at all goes wrong."

"I suppose you're right" Albus agreed reluctantly. "Sirius, keep me informed if any changes. And thank you... I don't know what Harry would do without you."

After the call, Sirius walked back over to the bed where Harry lay and pulled up a chair, sitting down beside his sleeping Godson. He noted how young the boy looked when he was sleeping and you couldn't see his eyes; eyes that had seen too much in too few years, eyes too mature for their age.

Sirius couldn't say that he was looking forward to finding out exactly what had happened when Harry woke up- it looked as though it would be a grim tale. He was worried about his Godson; back in June, Harry had experienced things that no fifteen-year-old ever should. It was bound to have some effects on him- nightmares at the very least. But Harry had been sent right back to Surrey to live with his relatives, not permitted any contact with anyone outside of them. He had no access to any source of comfort, help or even information about the Wizarding World. Sirius had protested this, insisting that Harry stay with him for the summer. But Dumbledore had explained the blood wards, and assured him that he had people who would be guarding Harry from afar. So what went wrong?

Sirius didn't really know what the Dursleys were like as relatives, but he got the feeling they weren't too brilliant from things that Harry had let slip in conversation. Also, back in Harrys third year on the night Wormtail got away, Sirius had offered Harry a new home with him. The boy had jumped on the opportunity, even if he had barely known Sirius for half an hour. That was odd, in Sirius' opinion. He was beginning to fear that something deeper was going on in Harry's life.

Then there was the matter of the dementor: what was it doing in Little Whinging, around the corner from where Harry was supposed to be staying? It was highly unlikely that this was a coincidence. What if Harry had been there? What would have happened to him? Sirius shuddered; he didn't even want to think about it.

So Sirius sat and waited to get the full story from Harry once he woke up, but only if he felt up to it. Harry had obviously had a pretty rough few days, and Sirius didn't want to pressure him into explaining anything he didn't want to. For now, he would let Harry sleep and hope for some answers in the morning. Sirius settled back in his armchair and dozed off into a fitful, restless sleep.

A/N: Also, tomorrow's my birthday so I probably won't be writing. Expect another chapter by Saturday, though! Thanks for reading and please leave a review!


	5. You look like shit, kid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi guys! Hope you like this chapter, and please leave a comment/review!

Harry could fell consciousness slowly creeping up on him, but tried to ignore it- he was far too comfortable in this warm, soft bed...

Suddenly a loud, drawn out snore came from somewhere on Harry's left. He jumped up, overshooting the distance in his drowsiness and falling onto the ground in an ungraceful heap, now completely awake. He heard someone yelp, and saw a blurry figure jump up in front of him. Harry leapt off the ground, reaching for his wand in his waistband only to realize that it wasn't there. "Fuck" he cursed under his breath, looking around frantically at his blurred surroundings. Let's do this the muggle way Harry thought as he wound up for a punch. Suddenly, mid-swing, a hand grabbed his wrist. Harry yanked his arm back and tried to get away, but his skinny arms were no match to this person's strength. He began to panic.

"Get the fuck off me! Where am I?" he yelled. "Who are you? What do you want?"

Harry started grappling at thin air with his free arm, looking for a table or anything that might hold his glasses or wand. In his panicked fit, Harry failed to notice that the blurry figure was speaking to him.

"Harry. Harry. HARRY!"

Finally hearing the voice, Harry stopped moving and listened.

"Harry?" it questioned softly.

It was then that Harry recognized this voice. He faced the figure and squinted, trying to make out some features: a tall man, with pale skin and dark wavy hair to his chin...

"Sirius?" Harry said in disbelief, not quite sure if it was actually his godfather. He heard a sigh of relief from the person's direction.

"Yeah, you nutter! Are you trying to finish me off? Here, I have your glasses... Jesus Christ, I didn't know you were this blind without them..."

Harry saw Sirius move, and the next second he felt his glasses being pressed into his hand. He slipped them onto his face and let out a relieved sigh as everything came back into focus, including the slightly worried, slightly amused face of his Godfather. Harry started grinning like an idiot- he was so happy to see his Godfather after so long. Sirius was dressed in old muggle jeans and a black t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His hair, cut shorter than usual, fell in waves then just brushed his chin. His face had a light stubble; Sirius looked much fuller and healthier than the last time Harry had seen him.

"-is that alright, Harry? Harry? Why are you smiling? What's so funny?" Sirius said, sounding confused. Harry snapped out of it.

"Nothing, Sirius. I'm just happy to see you again, is all... what were you saying?" He must have zoned out for a few minutes, because he had no idea what his Godfather had just said to him. Sirius smiled and started again.

"I just was asking if I could check you over for a concussion. Your head was pretty banged up last night."

"Yeah, yeah, that's fine. Go ahead. Thanks." Harry replied hastily. Sirius' request caused him to remember why he was here in the first place; getting beat up by his Uncle, running away, getting to Grimmauld place and completely losing it in front of Sirius. He had some explaining to do, and was definitely not looking forward to it.

"I'll just run a quick spell over you. Might make you feel a little dizzy..."

"Right." Harry muttered as he sat down on the edge of the bed, closed his eyes and braced himself for the spell. Sirius stood in front of Harry, pointed his wand at his forehead and murmured an incantation. Harry felt his head go fuzzy for a moment, then return to normal. When he opened his eyes, the tip of Sirius' wand was glowing bright red.

"Yup." Sirius confirmed. "Definitely a concussion... and a pretty bad one at that."

He raised his wand and summoned several bottles. He uncorked them and handed them to Harry one at a time.

"One for the concussion, one for nutrition, another for the pain. Drink up, kid."

Harry gave a small, crooked smile at the nickname then proceeded to down the potions in one gulp each. He grimaced at the tastes, but was thankful that the fuzzy feeling in his head, pain in his ribs and gnawing hunger in his stomach all began to disappear. Feeling much better but still nervous for the discussion that was to come, Harry set the last bottle down on the bedside table and shuffled himself backwards on the bed so the backs of his knees were touching it.

"Thanks." he said quietly, hunching over and looking at his feet hanging an inch off the ground. He knew what was coming now- it was inevitable that Sirius would have questions, ones Harry would rather not answer.

Harry felt the bed sink beside him as his Sirius sat down a few inches away. Harry noticed that his Godfather was watching him from the corner of his eye, but continued to look at his feet, waiting for him to make the first move.

"Harry." Sirius finally spoke in a soft voice.

"Yeah?" Harry replied, continuing to look at his feet. His voice cracked a bit in his nervousness.

"Harry, come on. Look at me." Sirius nearly pleaded.

Harry slowly raised his head and made eye contact with his Godfather. In his kind, dark eyes he saw nothing but love and concern.

"You look like shit, kid." Sirius said, smiling a little.

Harry rolled his eyes, letting out a soft chuckle. It lightened the mood a bit, making him feel a little less nervous. Only his Godfather could make him laugh at a time like this. Sirius began to speak again.

"Listen, Harry, I know you're probably tired and don't feel like doing this. But I really need to know what happened to you and why you're here. Believe me, I'm thrilled to see you, but last night you showed up on my doorstep half-dead and it scared me shitless. I just need to know that you're safe."

"I know... and I'm sorry for scaring you. I just didn't know where else to go." Sirius nodded his forgiveness.

"Why don't you start from the beginning?"

Harry sat still for a moment, pondering

"Well.. a few nights ago I ran away from the Dursley's house. They were pissing me off so I just left. All I had with me was my trunk, my invisibility cloak and my wand- I didn't have my broom, or even any muggle money. And I couldn't contact anyone since Dumbledore made me give Hedwig to Ron for the summer. I decided to walk here- I remembered your address, and I figured you wouldn't mind letting me stay a while. That's all that happened- no big deal, really. Oh, by the way, did you know that your house moves?" Harry tried to change the subject. It was a good try.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Fidelius charm." Sirius said absently, waving his hand. "Harry, if that's the whole story, then how did you get so beat up?"

"I just fell on the way. I tripped on a hole in the pavement and bashed my head up." Harry said, avoiding eye contact and hoping that Sirius would buy it. It wasn't a lie, he reminded himself, only a half truth. Harry looked up to see Sirius with one eyebrow raised, giving him a disbelieving look. 'Damn it', Harry thought. Why couldn't Sirius just give it up?

"That would explain the concussion and a few other injuries... last time I checked, you don't get a black eye and finger-shaped bruises on your arm from simply falling on concrete. How about the truth, yeah? How did you get those injuries?"

"Fine... I got in a fight."

"With who?"

"It's really not a big deal, Sirius. Don't worry, I'm fine. I can handle it."

"No, Harry, I will worry, because that's my job and I know that something's up. If you just got into a fist fight with a neighbourhood kid, you would just tell me now- you know I wouldn't be mad. There's something big you're trying to hide from me. We'll try one more time, yeah? How did you get those injuries?"

Harry looked at his feet again, defeated- he knew there was no getting out of this one now. Sirius always knew when he was lying. He would have to tell him the truth about his uncle. Over the years, Harry had gotten used to the abuse and convinced himself that Vernon's behaviour really wasn't that big of a deal. But it would be a huge deal to Sirius, he knew it. That was just the way Sirius was, love it or hate it. Harry looked into Sirius' eyes. He saw a mixture of concern and determination, along with a fierce protectiveness, and in that moment he knew that Sirius wouldn't stop until he got the truth out of him. Damn him for caring so much.

"Sirius, before I tell you anything you have to promise me something... promise me you won't tell anyone else what I'm about to tell you. This... this is difficult for me to talk about and I don't want my friends or the Weasleys or anyone to know about it."

"Of course, Harry. This is just between you and me - you know you can tell me anything.' Sirius waited for Harry to speak. 'Best get it over with' Harry thought as looked at Sirius, gathered all his courage and began to speak.

"Okay. Well, it's true that some of my injuries came from falling. But the others... well, the night I ran away I kind of talked back to my Uncle, and he got pretty pissed off. He might've hurt me a little. That's why I ran off." Sirius' face took on an expression of fury as he absorbed what his Godson had just admitted, so Harry hurried on. "But it's fine, Sirius. Really - it's not a huge deal. Don't worry about me, I'm fine now, safe with you."

Sirius took a deep, calming breath and ran a hand through his hair, trying to control his temper. When he was a little calmer, he spoke again.

"Harry, this is anything but fine. This is abuse, plain and simple. What the hell did you say to get him so pissed off that he hit you?"

"I accidentally woke him up during the night... but it honestly doesn't take all that much to get him in that state."

"This has happened before, then?"

Harry looked away at the opposite wall, his breath quickening as he seriously began to panic.

"Once or twice..."

"Harry, enough with the lying, honestly! You're pants at it!" Sirius was starting to sound agitated, and even Harry was getting tired of playing games. It was time to just let it out. He jumped off the bed and started pacing about in front of Sirius, making aggressive gestures as he raised his voice.

"Fine, I'll tell you, if you really want to know that badly! My uncle has hit me in anger ever since I can remember. It's just the way it is over there- I get blamed for something, I pay for it with my own blood. He beats me up for the tiniest things; not cooking dinner properly, not finishing all my chores, sleeping in for five minutes too long. Sometimes he even does it for no reason other than me being alive. They never wanted me - they hate me. The night I ran away I had a nightmare and started screaming in my sleep. He was so angry and he started yelling at me for waking him up. I was so tired of his shit; I mean, it's not my fault I have nightmares, is it! So I yelled back. He beat me up and threw me around for a while. I got so pissed off I just grabbed my trunk and left that fucking hell-hole. I am so done with that whole family. Especially him. All my life he's treated me like shit on the bottom of his shoes, and I'm so fucking done with it. I am NOTHING to them, and I wont EVER go back there, you hear me?! NEVER!"

Harry had worked himself into quite a state; by the end of his speech he was yelling at Sirius. He was suddenly so angry that he couldn't take it anymore. He whipped around, breathing heavily, and punched the bedroom wall as hard as he could. He continued to yell, accentuating each word with a punch to the wall:

"I. WILL. NEVER. GO. BACK."

Harry let out a strangled, frustrated yell and sank to his knees, tears streaming down his face as he cradled his injured hand. He remembered his Godfather was watching. He looked up at Sirius, who was still sitting on the bed, unmoving, watching Harry with a funny look on his face, one that Harry had never seen before. Sirius' eyes held not only pain, sorrow and concern but also such a deep level of understanding that Harry felt all the anger physically drain from him, leaving him feeling empty and exhausted. He stared up into Sirius' eyes and whispered one simple request.

"Please don't make me go back."

Sirius didn't move for a moment, he just continued to stare at Harry with that look. Then he slowly rose to his feet and walked over to stand in front of his Godson. He held out his hand, which Harry took. He hoisted Harry up. Once he was on his feet, Sirius wrapped strong arms around his skinny Godson, bringing his head close to his chest. He lowered his own head until his cheek was resting against Harry's jet-black hair and muttered one quiet word, just loud enough for Harry to hear.

"Never."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you liked it, and don't forget to review! Also, I'm open for any ideas in regards to the story... if you'd like to see something happen, or a specific scene/scenario, let me know and I'll try to fit it in. Thanks!


	6. Why didn't you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys - enjoy and don't forget to leave a review!

For the second time in as many days, 15 year old Harry Potter had fallen asleep in his Godfather's arms. He supposed he should be quite embarrassed, but honestly couldn't bring himself to care. After the loneliness he had experienced in the last few months, Harry was glad for any sort of human contact at all.

Harry was completely drained after his breakdown, but felt more free than he ever had in his life. He had been bottling up his feelings about the Dursleys for much too long; he had never even told Ron and Hermione about what his life was really like over there. Sure, he had hinted at his unhappiness, but he never let them know he was abused. Harry was sure his friends, who come from such loving homes, would not understand his pain and would treat him differently if they knew. Harry could never bring himself to tell any of his teachers - he didn't want to appear weak or incapable. And Dumbledore was the last person Harry would want to disappoint. Now that someone Harry trusted knew about the abuse, he felt as though a large weight had been taken off his shoulders; he didn't have to keep his secret any longer.

Harry knew that Sirius would probably want to talk more about the Dursleys. He had let lots of things slip during his outburst. He wasn't quite ready to tell his whole story, but felt that he was well on his way.

Harry had woken up back in bed, under the covers- Sirius must have put him there after he fell asleep. He still felt sore from his healing injuries, but was overall feeling much better. Harry reached over to the nightstand, feeling around for his glasses. He felt his hand hit the cold wire frame and brought the glasses to his face, sliding them on crookedly. Now that he could see, Harry looked over at the clock on the wall; it was nearly noon. He didn't know Sirius' sleeping patterns, but figured he'd be awake by now. The chair beside the bed was empty.

Harry slipped out of bed and limped over to the bathroom. He took a quick shower, dried himself off and went back into the bedroom wrapped in his towel. Harry saw his trunk lying on the ground by the bed and opened it to reveal an absolute disaster- it looked like a bomb had gone off inside. Harry hadn't quite had time to pack neatly when he ran away. He dug through and somehow managed to extract a pair of boxers, some rumpled jeans and an old green t shirt. He threw them on, grabbed his wand from the bedside table and left the room to find Sirius.

Harry had no idea where he should look - he had never been in this house before, and didn't want to wander too much. He found a staircase and padded down it, listening as the stairs creaked with every step. He noticed how old and dirty the house was, but didn't mind; anything was better than the sparkling white, sterile counter-tops at Privet Drive. When he got to the bottom of the staircase, Harry found himself looking down a long, gloomy hallway. He noticed that all the doors were closed except for one near the end- perhaps Sirius was in there. Harry walked to the room and poked his head around the door frame. It was a small room, containing only a couch, a coffee table and a large, intricate tapestry on the wall. Sure enough, Sirius was standing there, wearing the same clothes he had the night before and staring intently at the tapestry on the wall. He had his back to Harry, and didn't appear to notice his presence.

Harry approached Sirius silently, trying not to startle him. It wasn't until Harry was standing right next to his Godfather that Sirius noticed him; he looked over at Harry. He had a sad, reminiscent, nearly regretful look on his face, which he quickly replaced with a soft smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Harry returned it half-heartedly, noting how tired Sirius looked; his eye bags could rival Harry's. He wondered how much sleep Sirius had got last night.

"What'cha up to, kid?" Sirius asked.

"Nothing much. I was just looking for you. Don't know my way around this place." Harry replied.

Sirius nodded in understanding. He then turned back towards the tapestry and continued to stare at it, deep in thought. Harry leaned backwards against the wall, shoving his hands in his rumpled pockets and staring into space. They stayed like that for a few minutes, both lost in their own thoughts, neither of them finding the need to speak.

"What is this thing?" Harry eventually asked, breaking the companionable silence. He gestured his chin towards the tapestry he was leaning against.

Sirius' expression darkened as he looked over at Harry then back towards the tapestry. He brought a hand up and lightly traced his fingers over the dusty surface.

"Nothing important, really. Just my family tree." he mumbled.

"Where're you, then?" Harry asked, standing up properly beside his Godfather to get a better look at the thing. He realized then that he knew absolutely nothing of his Godfather's family or childhood, and wanted to learn more.

Sirius slid his hand across the tapestry to rest on a dark, charred spot.

"I was right here." he said in a quiet voice. He sounded very sad and a little bitter. Harry frowned at Sirius; why would his Godfather's name burnt off the family tapestry?

"Who the hell did that?" Harry asked, running his hand over the spot.

"My dear old mum, of course. Disowned me and blasted me right off the damn thing the night I ran away."

Harry was shocked; he looked at Sirius sharply, his hand still on the wall.

"You ran away too?" he said in disbelief. Sirius nodded.

"You bet I did. I hated my family, the whole lot of them. Twisted, conceited little bastards they were."

Harry looked confused - how could such a kind and tolerant man come from people like that? Sirius continued.

"The Blacks are an ancient pure-blood family; very rich, very dark and very narrow minded. They think they're better than every one else because of their blood status- I'm sure you've met some people like that." Harry nodded and wrinkled his nose; he was reminded immediately of Draco Malfoy. "The Blacks had this sort of twisted obsession with dark magic. They encouraged, or rather pressured, their kids to join Voldemort. This family has produced some of the foulest death-eaters out there."

Harry looked shocked. "I had no idea..." he said.

"Anyways, the night I ran away was the night my little brother, Regulus, joined the death-eaters. He announced the 'good news' to my parents at dinner; they were so proud of him, acting like Reg was some sort of hero for joining Voldemort. It made me absolutely sick, the way they were praising him." Sirius sounded truly disgusted as he recounted this tale. "Then my parents started ragging on me, asking me why I wasn't a death-eater yet, why I wasn't a good son like Regulus... and I just sort of blew up. Started yelling, had a huge fight with my parents, got tired of their bullshit and left. Got up, grabbed my trunk and walked right out the front door - just like you did. Sixteen years old. Reg told me that mum burnt me off this tapestry later that year at Hogwarts... him and the other Slytherins seemed to find it quite amusing."

Sirius finished and looked away from Harry, who was shocked that his Godfather's family was so dark; he had never expected that from a person like Sirius. He was proud, though, that his Godfather had turned out so well despite the environment he grew up in, and had the guts to run out on his family. That took courage, and Harry knew it.

"Where'd you go? After you ran away." Harry asked curiously. Sirius glanced at Harry briefly with a strange look on his face before answering.

"Your dad's. Showed up half dead on his doorstep, much like you did. Your grandparents loved me- they were happy to take me in. I was like a son to them. They saved me."

"Wait- half dead? What do you mean? What happened to you?"

Sirius looked at Harry for a long moment; he appeared to be considering something. Then he began to speak again.

"My parents weren't the... gentlest of people, let's say. My dad was abusive towards me. Like your Uncle, I guess. If I put a toe out of line, I got beat up. He never hit Reg, though, no matter what he did. And he barely ever hit me before Hogwarts. But then I got sorted into Gryffindor, and it just kind of went downhill from there. The night I ran away was the worst- he beat me up so bad I swear he almost killed me."

Harry was taken aback; Sirius' dad sounded a lot like his Uncle. Now he realized why Sirius had held such understanding in his eyes when Harry had confessed his abuse the night before.

"Why didn't you tell anyone about it?" Harry asked Sirius.

"Why didn't you?" was his Godfather's swift reply.

Harry nodded in understanding; it was a fair point.

"I hid the abuse well over the years... long sleeve shirts to cover the bruises and such. But James finally got it out of me that night." Sirius said. "I'll never forget it. I wouldn't tell him anything at first... I was embarrassed, and I didn't want him to see me differently. But this is James we're talking about; he wasn't gonna let it go. Stubborn little shit. Can't thank him enough for it, though. That night I broke down and told him everything; I finally let it all out. All the anger, the guilt, the resentment, the fear. Only after doing that did I begin to heal; to get better. And I only went uphill from there."

Sirius turned towards Harry, placed his hands on his shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. "What your uncle did to you is completely horrible and absolutely unacceptable, and I'm so very sorry that you had to go through that. I want you to know that when you're ready to tell me everything, or want to tell me anything at all, I'm here. Even if it's three in the morning, I don't care - just come get me. No matter where I am or what I'm doing, I'll listen. I never want you to be afraid to talk to me, about anything. And I know from experience... you can't just tough through these things without any help. I'm here... I'll be your James. Got it?"

Harry nodded, trying to swallow around the ache in his throat; he shouldn't cry in front of Sirius again. Never before in his life had Harry had someone to talk to, to trust - it felt brilliant. Harry wasn't sure that he was ready to talk about everything that happened at Privet Drive, but at least he knew he had someone there to listen when he was.

He felt Sirius pulling him into a strong hug, pressing his stubbled cheek against the top of Harry's head. Sirius sighed deeply before beginning to speak quietly.

"You remind me so much of myself, Harry. You have no idea." Sirius said. "But you're so much better, in so many ways, and I am very proud of you. I want you to always remember how brilliant you truly are, okay? No matter what those fuckwads told you... you are amazing, and smart, and brave, and you deserve all the love in the world. Don't you ever forget that, yeah?"

Harry nodded into his Godfather's chest, swallowing back his tears.

"Thanks, Sirius." he whispered.

"Anytime. I love you, kid." Sirius said. He stood still for a moment before giving Harry a final pat on the back and releasing him. He put an arm around his Godson's shoulder, pulling him close to his side and ruffling his hair.

"So, how about some breakfast, then? I might have something in the pantry..."

Sirius rambled on as they exited the room together. He shut off the light and closed the door behind him with a decisive thud. They walked down the hallway, chatting happily, not looking back towards the room that held so many bad memories for Sirius. It was time to let go of the past; Harry only hoped that he was ready to move forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you liked this chapter! I thought about ending it here but then I wrote another chapter so I'll keep going! Thanks for reading and please leave a comment or review!


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